#vaidehi

I am in love with the idea of love;

that sweet, elusive mystery that smells of rain,

And moist earth after a season of drought.

Motherhood, they say, is love...

But why then, does it only stir

In the swell of my breasts ? Why not my lips

that long to smile when my baby laughs?

But they cannot, for the sky does not hear us

As it hears the peasants, the priests...

And even the prisoner.

Daughter of Dirt, or her salvation?

Consort of chaos, or his nemesis?

Queen of quiet rebellion, or its antithesis?

My child, my heart... Hush, now.

Weep not of thirst.

Drink of your amma's tears,

Rains don't fall for us.

-- Vaidehi

Art entry #1 for Daan (Vaidehi aesthetic)

@heyifinallyhaveablog @mayavanavihariniharini I have no ides who asked for this prompt but you guys are kinder to Vaidehi than the rest of the readers so this is also dedicated to you.

Sarva Sampanna Bhavah. I heard these words repeated many times in my childhood. At every birth, marriage, and festival, Akka Ajadaasi would say them. Her gnarled fingers never folded into her palm. It was as if they remained open always because she had so many blessings to give. However, some people believed she suffered from arthritis. 

Naveenapuram was her home as much as any place could be. As an aghorini, she did not claim any place as her own;  but since she chose to return to us every winter, I can safely say that if she ever had a home, it was in my kingdom. Unlike her, I call Naveenapuram my home even now. And unlike her, I cannot return to it; not this winter nor the next. Perhaps never. 

Sometimes, I ask myself what I miss the most about my home? Certainly, the land calls to me. But I was never truly queenly material and hence, that call does not mean very much to me. Perhaps I am bitter. After all, it is that land for whose safety my mother traded my wellbeing and my honor. I am really no better than a whore, I feel. But at least my people are safe. 

I have a really bad habit of going off on a tangent. Where was I? Ah, yes, the things I miss. 

For one, I miss the deciduous forests of Satpura and Panchmarhi. The smell of dew-soaked earth does not climb the high walls of Mahishmati as readily as they did those of my home. I miss the fresh spices I ground with my friends Ashwathi and Vrushali. I miss the spicy, zesty taste of the breakfast prepared by Guruda Singh, the old cook from the Rajputhana. And I miss Bosukhi, my pet dog and my best friend. It has been years since I roamed the forest with him. He used to run about and find the giant three-headed Buddha that was installed in Trinkanta by a monk almost 600 years ago. And he always knew where to find me afterwards because my anklets had more bells than those of all the other women in the kingdom. 

Bosukhi is probably dead now. He was already aging when I was given away in marriage. But his memories are all here with me and they make me sad. 

I have no one here. Just like my husband’s wretched brother Amarendra Baahubali, I am a prisoner too. He is caged by bars. I am caged by my womanhood. He bleeds in flesh. I bleed in spirit. 

But he is still home. I will never be. 

-- Vaidehi, the uncrowned princess of Naveenapuram, the uncrowned queen of Mahishmati

My fourth art entry for Baahubali summertime challenge #2 -- Bhumi

Note- Vaidehi is Bhallaladeva’s wife in my Silences and Insanities Universe. A more detailed account of her can be found here and here as well. 

For @mayavanavihariniharini

Vaidehi (Bhallaladeva’s Wife in the Silences and Insanities Universe)

8- Sex Headcanon

Maharani Vaidehi did not remember her wedding night. She did have a faint memory of the ceremony itself but even that wasn’t particularly pleasant. How could it be when it was marked by the deafening thunder of her world coming to an end?

Her father and brothers had been killed in battle by Bhallaladeva. Her mother, Queen Sarada had been captured. And two choices had been put forth before her. 

She could either give up Naveenapuram and all the vassal kingdoms under the Hurana dynasty over to Mahishmati or she could choose death and allow the rest of the kingdom to meet the fate of Kuntala.

The first option had been demeaning but it had been their only one. They couldn’t have allowed their people to burn. It was their duty to ensure the safety of their subjects even in the face of absolute defeat and humiliation.

This tainted salvation would take the sacrifice of Princess Vaidehi. And that’s how she had come to be the Maharani of Mahishmati, also the personal sex slave of Bhallaladeva. 

As a young maiden, she had often wondered about her husband and what it would be like to be married. She had even glanced through a copy of Vatsyayana’s Kama Sutra found only in the library of the royal courtesans’ palace. 

But nothing could have prepared her for the devastation she experienced as she was dressed in red and gold for her extremely short wedding ceremony and the unending wedding night of which she had no recollection-- except for the blood on her thighs the next morning, the hand-shaped bruises on her hips, the bloody scratches on her chest, and the severe pain in her intimate areas that made it excruciating to sit for several days. 

And even when she was taken after that, the experience remained painful, degrading, and soul crushing. He often hit her during their violent couplings and for some strange reason, chose to call her ‘Devasena.’ One time, she dared to correct him. “My name is Vaidehi,” she had snapped. And he had responded by backhanding her hard enough to split her lip. 

Eventually though, she got used to it. Her personal attendants knew better than to ask questions but they always added neem extract and aloe juice to her bath water. And they left several towels and a bottle of turmeric-infused almond oil for her in the bedroom, knowing that she would need those after spending a night with the king. 

In the first few months of her marriage, Vaidehi saw how her husband treated his imprisoned brother and how the guards treated the common people. She just assumed that Bhallaladeva was incapable of tenderness or love or kindness. But then she got pregnant with his child.

And during the months of her pregnancy, she saw a different side of him. He did not look at her. He did not touch her even. But for hours together, he watched her belly. He often talked to the child growing within her. But even as he did so, he refused to look at her face. And when his lust struck, he called one of the courtesans to their bedroom and satiated his appetite right in front of her.

Mercifully, it was always quick. He did not hit the courtesans, he never verbally abused them. He did what he had to and they did what they had to. 

Mount. Thrust. Release. Unmount. Leave. 

After Bhadra’s birth, Vaidehi’s life went back to how it used to be. Bhallaladeva went back to his old ways and she got used to being addressed as Devasena. 

She got pregnant thrice more in the next four years but she miscarried the first two times and the last time, she gave birth to a stillborn baby girl. No funeral was conducted for her but in her mind, Vaidehi named her Princess Aamuktha, the liberated one-- because she had been saved from being born to Bhallaladeva, saved from being turned into a vessel of hatred and anger like her brother Bhadra. 

Now, Bhallaladeva was dead. Baahubali had been freed from his cage. His wife and son were alive. 

But what did Vaidehi have?